Trust is more important.

July 20, 2023

I offered myself to you recklessly. I didn’t want to fail to offer you what I’d offered the man before you, who chose not to claim me in the end. You knew I was self-destructive. You knew I was reckless. I knew that as I met you for the first time, you knew far too much about me. You’d already laid a claim on me. I’d already agreed to be yours. But, regardless of how much I’d told you about me, regardless of knowing your voice - I didn’t know you. I hadn’t seen you. I hadn’t felt your energy. But I was yours, so I offered everything. I offered to lay in a bed, laid bare, blindfolded, with a key at the lobby waiting for you, a man I’d never met. I was under no illusion. I knew you were a monster, and you didn’t deny it. I had sought danger, and here it was. If you had so wished it, I would have died. I offered my very life. Desperate for what I would get in return.

You refused, you wanted more. Trust was more important.

So I offered to meet you face-to-face. You terrified me. I had never knowingly met a Dom, much less one who had laid a claim on me. I waited by a phone booth, in a city almost a hundred miles from home, where I knew few people. Of those people within 50 miles who knew me, none knew I was that close to them, alone in the industrial part of town. It was dark already. And there were strangers. Cars passed by. It was not a good part of town. I already had your key in my pocket from the cheap motel a block away. And I had already talked to you about handing you the key. You’d already laid a claim on me. I’d already agreed to be yours. But I was terrified. I will admit that part of it was a test, but still - I offered you control. If I was scared, should I offer the key? It would have allowed you access to a room where I might be sleeping. You could do anything. I offered you everything.

You refused; you wanted more. Trust was more important.

So I offered you my patience, sitting alone in that room. Waiting for you to finish work, waiting without knowing what to expect. I’d barely gotten close enough for you to touch me. But I offered you everything. You’d told me you’d knock at the door. You told me you’d call me if I didn’t wake up promptly. But I couldn’t sleep - I was terrified. You were too real. You’d already laid a claim on me. I’d already agreed to be yours. You called me as you walked to the room. I opened the door for you. Opening the door for a stranger I’d met once for moments, letting the door shut behind you - I offered my death.

You refused; you wanted more. Trust was more important.

So I offered you myself. In the end, I was already yours, but you took me anyways. You already knew the terrified child that waited for you - needed you. You spoke gently and held me together. You saw all I had offered knowing fully that despite the risk, and the danger - I was not any of what it implied. I took the actions of a slut, a whore, someone used to risk. When I offered you my dignity you saw right through it. You knew exactly what I thought of myself, the broken worthless girl after self-destruction; I acted the whore, yet desperately wanted you to see the loyal moldable submissive I was offering to be. I offered you everything. And you have taken me carefully, strengthening me one step at a time. So I can offer you more. I want to be able to offer you anything you ask of me. I offer more than I am ready for.

You refuse; you demand more. Trust is more important.